


Crown of Love

by HareBrained



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Royalty, F/M, Female Stiles Stilinski, First Kiss, Librarian Stiles, Misunderstandings, POV Derek, Prince Derek, Princess Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-02-06 05:57:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1846969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HareBrained/pseuds/HareBrained
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek Hale is a prince. Stiles Stilinski is a princess.</p>
<p>Does Derek know this? The answer is no.</p>
<p>Derek thinks the new royal librarian is like any other woman in this kingdom, susceptible to his charms and clamouring for his attention.</p>
<p>The thing is, Stiles is not from this kingdom. Here lies the problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crown of Love

**Author's Note:**

> Another Fem!Stiles fic from me, it seems.
> 
> Title taken from the Arcade Fire song of the same name.

Prince Derek of Hale was riding down the Northern road to the castle when he came upon something decidedly unfamiliar. The Northern road, one of the most famous in the kingdom, was known for being surrounded by lush forests and an abundance of wildlife. Many had declared that these forests were a blessing, a sign of the prosperity of the nation and the goodwill if it’s rulers. Despite this, few people wandered into these woods, claiming it was too easy to get lost, to lose sight of the road and thus, their way back home again. This is why Derek had been so surprised when he heard bright laughter in the forest, clear as day, ringing amongst the trees. Not only this, but it was a feminine laugh, bright and airy, as if they had been dancing amongst the dense foliage.

 Dismounting from his sleek, black horse, Cam, Derek drew the sword that was resting at his him, holding it steady as he picked his way through the undergrowth. A while had passed before Derek made his way towards a large clearing, the thick grass a fresh green, surround a sturdy oak tree. Despite the beauty of his surroundings, it was not the nature which had caught Derek’s eye, but the petite woman astride a chestnut mare, cantering circles around the clearing’s towering centrepiece.

Her hair was a light brown, cut short in a neat bob. It framed her sharply angled face, her button nose and her wide whisky eyes, which were lined by thick, smoky lashes. She was not classically pretty, and she knew it, forgoing typically long, flowing dresses and replacing them with a loose shirt, sleeves rolled up and tucked into high-waisted riding trousers which seemed to accentuate her slight body. Yes, she wasn’t typically pretty, but she definitely had appeal. And when Prince Derek of Hale is appealed by something? He pursues it.

Knowing this, Derek sheathes his sword, striding out into the clearing and making his presence apparent. Upon the next turn, the mystery woman spots him, slowing the mare to a trot before stopping completely in front of him. With a wild energy, she jumps from the horse, landing somewhat daintily before approaching Derek, a wide smile on her face.

“Can I help you, stranger?” She asks, pulling off her leather riding gloves to reveal long, nimble fingers. Derek licks his lips.

“I apologise for the intrusion, my lady. But you were out here on your own,” Derek gives her his best smile, “and it is soon nightfall. I would be honoured if I could escort you back to the city.”

“You are too kind, Sir. But who is it that offers their time so freely?”

Derek smirks to himself. He knows that as soon as he reveals his title, this woman won’t be able to resist him. He’s seen it happen. Women throwing themselves at him for a chance to be with a Prince. He never accepts anyone though. He enjoys taunting them; casting them under his spell and watching women fight for one of his smiles. It has become something of a pastime.

“You may call me Prince Derek of Hale, my lady.”

The woman’s eyes seem to widen more, before bobbing in a short curtsey, a sign of respect to her superior.

“Your Majesty, I apologise. I did not know…”

Derek waves her off, unruffled by her lack of recognition. That was not to say he wasn’t confused by it, though. He takes another step towards the woman, who remains unfazed by his proximity.

“Your apologies are not necessary, I can assure you. But please, allow me to escort you back to the capital. I can even show you the castle, if you would like?”

Now, Derek knows what he looks like. He inherited the perfect Hale genes. He inherited the tan skin, the inky dark hair, and the piercing green eyes of his father, and his father before him. Everyone knows the Hales are blessed with good looks, and Derek knows he uses this to his advantage. So when the stranger replies with a lopsided smile:

“Let it be said, Prince Derek of Hale that I, Stiles, know this road and its woods well. As thoughtful as your offer was, I am perfectly capable of returning to the city by myself, and an escort, as royal as it is, will not be required.”

Derek can only sputter, abruptly turning away towards Cam with what little of his dignity he has left. _This woman, rejecting a Prince?_ Derek thinks to himself, humiliated. _What sort of name is Stiles anyway?_

 

* * *

 

Arriving back at the castle, Derek left his horse with the stable boy before stalking indoors, meeting the rest of his family at the grand dining table in one of the large halls. At the head of his table, sat his father, regal and stern, yet years of weariness has been etched on to his kind face. Beside him sat his mother Talia, and in turn, opposite her, was his uncle Peter. Derek’s siblings Laura and Cora were further along the table, squabbling with each other, impatient to start their meal.

The room itself was impressive. High arches carved of stone, with precisely designed murals of wolves running along the walls. Tale of the Hale legacy, and their innate connection with wolves which made them famous. Grumbling, Derek slumped in the chair next to Laura, waiting for his father to begin eating.

“What has happened, dear Nephew, for your expression to look more grim than usual?” Peter piped up, smirking along at Derek.

“Why, Der-bear must have been rejected by a girl!” Cora snarked, cutting savagely into the chicken on her plate.

When no reply came, Laura gasped. “A girl? Reject Derek? I never thought I’d see the day. Where is this girl? I want to give her an award.”

“Shut up.” Derek snarled at her, grimacing at his own plate. It wasn’t fair; Derek’s pride was still wounded after the brutal rejection. The fact that he was unlikely to ever see her again soothed him somewhat, glad that her beauty and sharp wit would taunt him no longer.

As soon as he was lost in his thoughts, his mother broke him out of them again, asking “Derek, sometime this week, I would like you to go down to the library.  We have a new librarian here, and need you to fetch a couple of documents for me.”

Derek grunted his ascent, before resuming his dinner.

 

* * *

 

It was a few days later when Derek walked into the dimly lit library. Stumps of candles are sat on long tables, precariously close to the scattered papers not yet organised by the new librarian. As far as Derek could tell, he was the only one in the room, only to be proved wrong by the sound of falling hardbacks thudding against wood, and the rolling of a shelf ladder.

Derek followed the sounds, turning the corner to find the woman from earlier - _Stiles-_ leaning from the ladder holding an impressively large stack of books. Having a small moment of revenge, Derek coughed, causing the woman to squawk, releasing her hold on the wooden bars and falling the short distance to the floor.

Scowling, she looked up. Derek briefly saw the recognition in her eyes before she let out an outraged “You!”

“Me.” Derek replied, smirking down at Stiles. She was still dressed atypically, refusing the fashion that many women of the court obsessed over and insisted upon. To say Derek was intrigued was an understatement. Regardless, he couldn’t help but enjoy annoying her. He liked pulling pigtails, so what?

“And how can I help you, _your majesty?”_ said Stiles, standing up and brushing the dust off her already worn clothes.

“I’m looking for the librarian. Queen Talia claims they are new, and needed me to collect some documents for her. They are of great importance.” Derek watches as Stiles nods contemplatively, picking up the precious books that had fell to the floor along with her. He felt a slight twinge of guilt. “What are you doing in here anyway? I hope you have permission.”

Stiles gave him a flat look. “It appears you don’t take much notice of this castle’s affairs. That is one of your duties, is it not? _I_ am the librarian.”

“Should you be speaking to your prince in this way?” Derek replied, crossing his arms against his chest, defensive.

“You are not my prince.”

Derek was taken aback. No one - court or common - would speak to him in this way. And this woman, this woman unlike any woman he has ever met before comes out of nowhere, and says things like this. She was brave, and strong-willed, from what he could tell, though she was not arrogant. She was sure of her opinions, intelligent, and not afraid of discussion or debate. Derek’s heart skipped a beat.

“What makes you say that?” Derek asked, perplexed.

“I am from the neighbouring kingdom. Your father, the King, permitted me to stay and work here. It is a wonderful experience, and I am glad it has been granted to me.” Stiles admitted, softly running her spindly fingers up and down the spine of one of the library’s books.

“But only residents of the Hale Kingdom may work in this library, surely?” Stiles shrugged. “You must be important, then.” Derek concluded, standing a little straighter.

Stiles ducked her head, smiling softly to herself. “Something like that.”

Her sudden shyness gave Derek an opening, so he leaned into her space, grinning down at her. Gently, he placed a large hand at her elbow, relishing the warmth seeping through her shirtsleeve. “I would be so grateful it you could help me.” He murmured, “I’d love for you to show me around the library some time.”

Stiles raised a wry brow, “You are a prince and you do not know your own castle’s library? Such a waste.

“But - ”

“The papers Queen Talia needs are on the table behind you. I sincerely hope you treat them carefully, though if you haven’t even been in this part of the castle before, I can only wish for a miracle.” Stiles points somewhere behind him before turning on her heel and striding down the aisle, leaving a very confused, put out prince behind her.

 

* * *

 

After that, Derek made a point to keep an eye out for Stiles around the castle. Every now and then he’d see her talking to other members of the court, including his sisters. And it’s not just Derek who she would treat as an equal, Derek saw him with Laura and Cora a few times, bantering in a way ladies of their class would not behave in public, no matter how familiar they seemed.  This was how Derek had found the three of them, laughing raucously in an empty corridor.

At his approach, the women stopped, turning to face him.   His sisters were inspecting him with a devious gaze which only spoke of trouble and plotting to come. Stiles, on the other hand, was looking down and the pile of scrolls in her arms, slim fingers picking at their edges with an air of disinterest.

“Brother!” called Cora, waving at him with energy. “Have you met Stiles, here? She is such a delight!”

“Yes, he has.” Interrupted Stiles, looking up towards them. “He must be the only Hale to need showing around the Hale library. “

Cora looked confused. “Are you sure? But he is in there all the time, _your majesty._ ”

Derek made a noise in his throat, as did Stiles, a blush falling down her cheeks and neck. Her arms flailed and she almost lost balance. It was charming, Derek thought.

“I, uh. I have somewhere I need to be. Your majesties.” Stiles choked out as she stumbled away, clutching the scrolls to her chest in a tight grip.  This was the third time Stiles had left Derek standing there dumbstruck, and he didn’t know what to do.  He was broken from his thoughts by Laura, who had been watching the conversation with outright amusement.

“Something you need to tell us, Der-bear?”

Derek sighed, rolling his eyes. He knew he’d have to admit to his earlier blundering attempts at seduction sooner or later.

“You know I was ‘rejected’ by a girl a few days ago?” The siblings nodded. “Well that was her.”

“Derek, you cannot be serious.” Laura laughed, taking glee in his torment.

Cora, however, did not quite feel the same joy. “Our sister is right, though. You cannot be serious.”

“I don’t see why not,” Derek replied, shrugging.

Laura and Cora share a grimace before the latter speaks. “I know Mother hasn’t discussed this with you yet, but Stiles is considered rather important in her homeland, despite how she appears. Just try not to treat her like one of your admirers in the city, okay?”

“Look, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but it isn’t like that. She despises me.” Both his sisters raised a brow at this. “Besides, I’m not _that_ much of a caveman.” Their brows remained raised, expressions sceptical. “ _Fine._ But you’re both wrong.”

Soon after, Derek left his sisters to their troublemaking, though his mind drifted to Stiles. It drifted to the soft rosiness of her cheeks, her bashful smile and clumsy walk. It was absolutely, positively charming, and Derek realised right there and then that he really did like her more than just a passing fancy. The only problem was - Derek thought to himself - that Stiles did not feel the same way.

 

* * *

 

A few weeks had passed before Derek spotted Stiles again. He had the distinct feeling that she was avoiding him, and despite his confidence and cocky attitude many women in the kingdom gush over, he couldn’t help but feel a little hurt. He hadn’t done anything wrong, had he? For days and days on end he replayed their passed interactions, analysing every aspect of them for fault or impertinence - yet he found nothing. Derek was at a loss, needing to let out his frustrations and anger, to vent the hurt from the admiration he was trying so hard to suppress.

So he trained. He sparred relentlessly with his friends and knights Boyd, Isaac and Erica. He hadn’t spent time with them since his brief time away, so he relished every hard strike and relentless parry only those closest to him were not afraid to use. Many of the other knights had reservations about fighting against their future monarch, despite being practice, but his friends - the trio - had no such hesitance.

Derek had just about collapsed to the floor in exhaustion (whilst his friends laughed of course) when he tilted his head to the side and looked across the field only to find Stiles armed with a bow, shooting at the row of training targets set up by the treeline.

Curiosity piqued, Derek stood up, briefly stumbling before jogging over to where Stiles was stood, face composed in absolute focus. Behind him, he could hear the mixture of sighs, laughter and grumbling from his friends. Exasperated by his lovesick behaviour, he presumed.

“You shouldn’t be using one of those by yourself,” Derek called from a short distance, “You might get hurt.”

Derek smiled for a moment as he watched Stiles fumble with the bow before turning towards him, a combination of surprise and derision on her elfin face.

“Your Majesty, what makes you think I have not used this weapon before?” Stiles replied with a huff. Steadily, she set up her next shot, arm pulled back tightly, her breaths deep and slow.

“Please, call me Derek. I am simply concerned for your safety, my lady. I would not want you to get -”

The whizz of a flying bolt as Stiles loosed the arrow jolted Derek from his sentence. He looked to his right, towards the target she had been aiming for, only to find the arrow a tad left from the centre. It was almost unnoticeable.

“- hurt.”

“You were saying, Your Majesty?” Stiles grinned cheekily, her eyes shining with mirth.

Derek was stunned. This lone woman had proved him wrong time and time again. He was enamoured, there was no doubting that anymore. This fierce yet shy girl was one of the few who failed to be intimidated by his rank, his family, and his looks. This girl had gotten under her skin, settled into his heart and made a space for herself there, entitled and content.

“Where did you learn to do that?” He asked, trying to ignore the sound of wonderment in his voice.

Stiles swung the bow about carelessly, causing the leftover arrows to rattle in their quiver.

“Oh, this? My friend back home, Allison. She’s a skilled ranger, so she taught me I suppose. Well, Allison is engaged to my closest friend Scott of House McCall. He’s practically my brother, so when they were courting Allison and I became close.”

Well that was something Derek had never considered. He felt like an idiot. He was so wrapped up in his affections for Stiles he had neglected to think about whether there was someone waiting for her back in her homeland. Someone who got to hear her laugh every day, to be directed those bashful smiles and pinked cheeks, someone who admired her wit and snarky humour just like Derek did. The very thought of Stiles being with someone else hurt. It made his chest tighten and heart race. It hurt, it hurt.

As casual as he could make himself sound, Derek asked whether Stiles had anyone like that. He was surprised when Stiles laughed, almost in derision. She was looking down at the ground, feet shuffling awkwardly when she shrugged her shoulders, plump mouth turned down into a frown.

“Me, Your Majesty? I mean Derek. I have no such person, as lonely as that sounds. My father wishes for me to find someone, to set an example and something about duty.” Stiles shrugged again. “I stick to my books and my bow. No one likes a reclusive…well, uh…”

“A reclusive what?”

Stiles looked hesitant, but was about to answer when Derek hear the calls of Boyd, Erica and Isaac across the training field. They were getting bored waiting for him, and wanted him to get back so they could start training again. Derek was torn.

“It’s quite alright, Derek.” Stiles muttered, beginning to pack away her archery equipment with precise actions. “I need to get going anyway. Your sisters are supposed to be meeting me at the library.”

“But -”

Before he could speak any further, Stiles had left him alone. She had left him confused, curious, and itching to know what she was so cautious of talking about. She was simply a chirpy librarian, surely? A charming one, of course, but Derek had the feeling he wasn’t in possession of all the facts.

He didn’t like that feeling.

 

* * *

 

Derek was angry. No. Derek was _furious._ He was stood at the edge of ballroom, home to one of the exclusive and prestigious events in the kingdom. He was supposed to be having a good time, but instead he looked on, nauseous as he watched the women of the court (sisters excluded, thankfully) steal a facet of Stiles’ individuality for their own selfish gain. They watched him hungrily, clad in what once was Stiles’ unique brand of fashion, hoping desperately for him to make an approach. Derek didn’t know what to do.

“Looks like we aren’t the only ones who have spotted your affections for Stiles.” Cora smirked as she sidled up to him. “How many women do you think have swapped their usual attire for Stiles’ so very unusual tastes? The high-waisted trousers are popular this year”

Derek looked on in disgust, choosing instead to admire his mother’s handiwork in decorating the ballroom. The space was bright and inviting, chandeliers hanging low from the ceiling, the light of the candles radiating a feeling of warmth and intimacy.

But what really - or who, he should say - pushed Derek from mild disgust to outright fury was stood at the opposite end of the ballroom. The problem came in the form of a young man with a crooked jaw and large brown eyes. _The Problem_ as Derek had taken to calling him was stood chatting amiably with Stiles. He watched in envy as their shoulders brushed, as he saw the lack of hesitance in their conversation and the ease at which they held themselves around one another.

Stiles was looking as beautiful as ever, and Derek could not help but notice a large number of women in the room shooting her looks of seething jealousy and outrage. Yet still she was oblivious to all this. _Too wrapped up in The Problem,_ Derek thought bitterly.

Before he knew it, Derek was stalking up to the pair, the occasional schmoozing group parting for him to get through.

“You lied to me.” Derek said, stood before Stiles.

She looked briefly towards _The Problem_ sharing a confused look before replying, placing a hand on Derek’s shoulder. “Derek - ”

“Your Majesty.” Derek snapped, shrugging off the hand.

Stiles looked as if she had been slapped. _It was only fair,_ Derek justified to himself, he was hurting too.

“I apologise, Your Majesty. That was too forward of me.  I was only trying to explain - ”

“You have nothing to explain. You lied to me!” He growled, pointing between Stiles and _The Problem._

“Please, Your Majesty,” interjected _The Problem,_ “People are beginning to look.”

Despite his anger, _The Problem_ was right. Many members of the court - especially the prowling women - were watching the scene before them, clearly prioritising _his_ royal gossip over subtlety.

“Derek, please.” Stiles pleaded, eyes wide and concerned. “Let us take a step outside, allow me to explain. I fear you may have misunderstood the situation.”

Because Derek couldn’t refuse Stiles anything, he firmly grasped her hand and lead her from the room, expecting answers. He didn’t know what to think, but he was pleased to see that Stiles was trying to make amends. Minutes later they were stood in the gardens facing each other, Stiles picking at the loose sleeve of one of her fancier shirts.

There was silence for a few moments until:

“Look - ”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were with someone?”

Stiles’ mouth dropped open and Derek followed the movement. She looked a mixture of bewildered, baffled and outright incredulous.

“Someone?” She asked.

“That man you were with, the one with the floppy hair and the wonky jaw?”

Much to Derek’s surprise, Stiles began laughing, clutching her sides with her hands, head thrown back and long, lean neck on show.

“Oh, Lord. Scott? Scott of House McCall? I beg your pardon Your Majesty, but that is the funniest and most ludicrous thing I have ever heard.”

“I don’t understand.” Derek frowned.

“That was Lady Allison’s husband. My practically-brother Scott. He knew I was nervous about the ball, so he had agreed to escort me for moral support.”

By this point, Derek was beginning to feel sheepish. Gods, how he had assumed the worst of Stiles. Of all people he could of. His accusations were all rendered false, feeling uncharacteristically giddy and nervous all at once. And maybe a little foolish.

“I see.”

Looking from beneath her lashes, Stiles gave a sly smirk. “What must have caused you to become so riled up, and confront me in this manner?”

Suddenly, Derek was bashful. Well, as bashful as his dignity would allow.

“I may…have been admiring you. From afar.”

Stiles smiled softly at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He replied, cradling her face and drawing her into a soft kiss, pulling a sound of contentment from Stiles.

They relished each other’s warmth for a while before Stiles spoke again. “We need to head back inside; people will be expecting us to make conversation.”

 

* * *

 

Despite telling Stiles of his interest in pursuing a serious relationship, Derek had yet to see any signs that she was intimidated by his title, or the kind of life she would have to lead when familiar with the royal Hale family. Derek supposed that it was because he hadn’t particularly told anyone about the recent development, wanting to avoid the inevitable pressure and speculation.

A few hours had passed since their conversation. Time used by Derek and Stiles to get to a place where they understood one another and what they wanted. In spite of his usual grumpy expression, Derek felt joyous. He watched as Stiles moved around the room, talking to courtiers, royals and upper-class socialites with great ease, as if she was born for it.

Gradually, Stiles made her way back towards him. a crooked smile on her face. Derek cannot understand how he was so at ease before without Stiles beside him. Knowing she was there, a presence at his side was both strengthening and comforting. Derek felt like he could take on the world with Stiles at his side. To their left, they spotted the previously titled problem Scott of House McCall. Stiles waved to him happily, whilst Derek gave him a curt, respectful nod. It was better than nothing.

“I think your father is about to make an announcement.” Stiles murmured, her hands clasped together.

As if summoned by Stiles’ words, his father – King Hale – drew the attention of the crowd, Queen Talia beside him smiling gently. They were dressed in royal-standard finery that had the envy of everyone in the room, though commanding respect and loyalty. He was proud to call them his parents, and he looked forward to watching them interact with Stiles. Although, he had a suspicion they had communicated quite frequently before Derek’s return to the kingdom. The chatter of the hall hushed, and his father began to speak.

“Thank you all for coming today, I hope you are having a pleasant evening. As you all will know, the ball you have attended today is a prestigious annual event, though this year, we are pleased to have a guest which makes this day so much more exciting.”

Derek turned his head as he watched Stiles’ mouth drop open, the colour draining from her face. King Hale continued his speech.

“Though she has been with us for some time, working in the castle, gaining wisdom and knowledge, she is here today to learn first-hand what it is like to attend and experience our famous Royal Hale hospitality.”

If Derek believed it was possible, Stiles paled further.

“Ah, now where is she?” Derek’s father looked across the crowd briefly, eyes landing slightly to Derek’s right. “There she is, next my son, who I hope you should all know by now.” The crowd laughed.

All eyes turned towards the pair as Stiles fidgeted awkwardly, looking a little guilty. Derek, too, was looking at her now. He had no idea what was going on, and he could feel his eyebrows drawing downwards in puzzlement, expression giving away his current predicament.

“I am pleased to present to you the representative of our neighbours, the throne’s heir and keen diplomat, Princess Stiles Stilinski, of the Stilinski Kingdom. Daughter of John.”

The crowd around them clapped politely as Stiles – _Princess Stiles_ – curtsied somewhat daintily. Every now and then, she shot Derek panicked looks, eyes glassy, begging for understanding and forgiveness.

As the rest of the guests began to turn away, resuming their original conversations, Stiles looked back at Derek. She seemed to sag in relief as the attention was drawn away from her. _This is why she preferred to be in the library_ , Derek thought to himself.

“A princess, huh?” Derek started.

Stiles shifted her feet. “Apparently so.”

“So when Cora called you - ”

“Yes.”

“And when you said no one likes a recluse, you meant a reclusive - ”

“Princess? Yes.”

Derek looked at Stiles for a moment, taking in her face and her happy expression. It was infectious, and Derek only wanted more, could only ever want more.

“I think we may need to work on our communication.” He suggested.

Stiles leaned in and pecked him on the lips, uncaring of the people around them. She laughed, looking down at their held hands.

“I think you might be right.”

***

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. 
> 
> Kudos and comments welcome!
> 
> Talk to me on [Tumblr](http://ragged-flagons.tumblr.com/)


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